


Intones of Red

by KaiSkitty



Series: Once a week [6]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Character Study, Doubt, Insecurity, M/M, Relationship Study, benihime centric, kisuke centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28246335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaiSkitty/pseuds/KaiSkitty
Summary: The princess's soft lullaby is nothing but silky wires of blood. That Ichigo knows because he knows Kisuke.
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Series: Once a week [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1739782
Kudos: 53
Collections: Weekly Writing Drabbles (Any Fandom)





	Intones of Red

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all. This is my first work in Bleach fandom, although I have read and enjoyed plenty. In this one-shot you may find things that differ from the manga, they are for the sake of the one-shot. That being said, I hope you enjoy this read.

**Intones of red**

Prompt: music

* * *

Kurosaki Ichigo was a brave man.

Valorous and bold, hotheaded and stubborn, he had a heart of gold and a resolve of steel. He betted on his life, constantly and impetuously, heedless of what may come his way. As long as his family and friends were safe, he was ok with it. Some called him suicidal and some thought he had some sort of a hero complex, but in the end it didn't matter. No one could deny the key role he played in saving both the world of the living and the soul society from numerous catastrophes on more than one occasion.

He was neither a saint nor satan, he was just a protector. A role that was given to him from the start and he had easily fallen into, on autopilot. He had long accepted the fact that he was a sacrificial pawn in the huge chessboard of Shinigami and the role of a bold hero in the game came as natural as breathing to him now. A brave hero who didn't know the meaning of the word _fear_.

Someone whose life was always about death-or-glory.

But then again, there was an ugly crack on the picture perfect of his bravery. There was something he did fear. Something that he never dared to challenge. _Someone_. He was scared of Urahara Kisuke, his former mentor, the mad scientist, the cold-blooded onmitsukido, the broken lamenting man, the love of his life. He was scared of him and his lethal blade.

_Benihime._

The crimson princess.

Merciless and sharp, proud and bloodthirsty.

It didn’t matter how many times they sparred, it didn’t matter how many times he had succeeded in slashing his mentor’s beloved hat, it didn't matter that he had long surpassed his mentor in everyone's eyes, he knew that Urahara’s firm hold on Benihime was the only thing that kept her from slicing him in half. That was why Kisuke never went all on him. He couldn’t. If he did, no matter how strong, he would probably end up dead, because the crimson princess had a will of her own and didn't play nice. Everyone knew it.

They still had a training schedule but the routine was too abnormal to even be called a routine but then again nothing about Urahara was normal.

“Awaken Benihime.”

Urahara would whisper and his wooden cane would turn into a menacing blade, ready to shred and tear, igniting waves of red, horrifying and precise.

“Nake, Benihime.” HIs princess would titter softly and chant on inaudible frequencies, like a master performer playing a sublime melody to lure and a sorceress scratching her sharp nails upon a wooden surface, a unique siren song to drown the charmed sailors. Eccentric and ominous, it was a surreal piece of art with heavy splashes of crimson on the canvas.

"Shibari, Benihime. Hiasobi Benihime, Juzutsunagi!" A puppeteer like her wielder, the crimson princess would hold her victim in strong wires, forcing them still like a helpless marionette, black and red beads of rosary erupting a ruthless volcano with a single push of her master's whim. No remorse, no mercy, just a bizarre enticing fire and light and her invisible hums of delight as Urahara slid and swung his way through the enemies.

If Byakuya’s Senbonzakura was about honor, if Rukia’s Sode no Shirayuki was about grace, if Renji’s Zabimaru was about passion, then Kisuke’s Benihime was about the _throne_. No, it was neither old man Yamamoto's Ryujin Jakka nor Aizen's Kyoka Suigetsu which ruled. No, _she_ was predator, more than just a princess, she was the empress of the court, a shadow queen who played by her own rules. Benihime was a ruthless ruler who sat upon the throne and did as she pleased, sometimes outwitting and cold, sometimes whimsical and wanton, benevolent and malevolent at the same time.

She took a sick pleasure in how the soul society was lost without his wielder and no matter what, Benihime was frightening. She was Urahara's inner nature taken form and in sync with him if he was in the mood, she tore and gored. A horrifying duo they were, shamelessly cruel and brutal.

All those paled in comparison the moment Ichigo saw Kannonbiraki Benihime Aratame, his mentor and lover's bankai in full glory. She was majestic. She was macabre. She was beautiful and horrid at the same time. A miraculous fusion just like her master.

If it was any man but Ichigo, they would have ended up with a permanent scarred mind at how brutal she was. Benihime was breathtaking as she tore and sew. She ripped apart and put together with her white long fingers, graceful and perfect as they ruined and built. With blood lips and in blood red dress, she was behind Urahara, like a pillar of support. She was a territorial tigress ready to jump, purring, waiting for her master slacken the grip on her blood lust. And Ichigo knew if that happened, it meant that Kisuke had changed back to the cold-hearted killer he was, once again, because his bankai was his last resort thus the portal of his well-hidden savagery.

It rendered Ichigo powerless because he knew that no matter how much of a lamenting man Kisuke was, his inner beast was still there, sleeping soundly in Benihime's embrace but not sound enough not to awaken time to time by the princess's enchanting song. The beast was more than willing to indulge in Benihime's morbid dance and Ichigo didn't even want to think about it and the disaster it would bring.

Kisuke's bankai left him in pieces and stitches but he didn’t care. He didn’t care that he looked like a gruesome patched up doll, tattered with tears of blood. Those were Benihime's marks, claiming ownership like love bites, affection marks and Kisuke didn’t care if the whole world found him scary because the scars were given by his crimson princess and Ichigo was lost, not knowing where he stood in this tangled web.

Benihime was the key to the door of Kisuke's mind. Ichigo had Kisuke's heart but it was Benihime who had his life and Ichigo knew she was not a sharing type. He could always tell by the sting of the fiery reiatsu coming his way. It would take time to gain Benihime's favor and patience was never one of Ichigo's virtues but if it was for Kisuke, he was willing to wait until the end of time. Benihime was like a feral animal who needed time to trust her master to someone.

Some would think it is stupid to gain a sword's favor, but Ichigo knew that Benihime was not just any sword. She was Kisuke's paramour, entangled with him. She didn’t deem anyone worthy of her wielder and Ichigo knew that Kisuke would never be completely his. Not with Benihime who was the lover and the beloved at the same time, there.

It was painful but Ichigo was content with Kisuke's affectionate smile and lively teasing as long as it was for him and because of him. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? Time always changed things, even the hardest stones turned to soil given enough time and maybe the crimson princess would soften a bit as well.

Until then, Ichigo would wait and take whatever he could.

* * *

**A/N** : Benihime is such a delight. Thank you for reading, feedback is always appreciated. 


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